


Like Fireworks We Pull Apart the Dark

by JuliaRose12



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Falling In Love, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Recovery, Sleepy Cuddles, lots of comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2019-03-12 20:27:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13554966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuliaRose12/pseuds/JuliaRose12
Summary: Three times Jeremy searches for a way to help Jean through his nightmares, and one time where his arms around Jean are enough.





	Like Fireworks We Pull Apart the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> so here is my first attempt at writing for aftg. in all honesty, i finished reading the king's men less than a week ago, but jeremy and jean have completely ruined me and i wanted to attempt something looking into jean's new life and the sunshine boy he gets to share it with.
> 
> a few things:  
> -the title is from in the embers by sleeping at last because i apparently can't write fic without using lyric titles  
> -this fic mainly focuses on nightmares, and jean has somewhat of a panic attack in the third section of the story, so tread carefully there if that's something that will bother you <3  
> -i don't talk too much about what actually happened to jean at evermore (mostly because it makes me sick) and riko isn't explicitly mentioned. in this story at least, jeremy has a vague understanding that jean went through a lot, and i'm sure they talk about it sometime, but it doesn't really get discussed here.  
> -lastly, i really hope the timeline for this makes sense. i know jean takes a long time to recover and learn how to be okay, so i tried to choose time intervals that seemed to fit with that.
> 
> thank you to alizza and grace for reading it over for me!! I really hope you enjoy it, and any feedback would be much appreciated :)

1.

Jeremy Knox is a light sleeper. It’s been the same since he was young, the smallest bit of noise waking him in the middle of the night and leaving him to find something to do until his eyelids grew heavy again. Bouncing a ball against the wall beside his bed or retreating under his blanket with a flashlight and a book to escape to another world were his most common solutions, and for eight year-old Jeremy, they were nearly foolproof. It’s gotten better as he’s gotten older, and as an athlete he’s grateful that most nights he manages a full night of sleep, but he’s not invincible to noise. A full night of rest is essential, and he knows this, but when Jean Moreau finds a home on the other side of his bedroom, the concept of waking up to noises in the night doesn’t seem as inconvenient as it’s always been.

The first day Jean arrived at USC, with nothing more than two duffle bags slung over one shoulder, he’d barely spoken. He surveyed Jeremy’s room in silence, as Jeremy mustered his best Tour Guide Voice and showed Jean around the small kitchen and living room. Jeremy’s bedroom, with his bed underneath the window and another bed situated at an odd angle near the closet, was the last stop on the tour, and he nearly backed directly out of the room when he realized that he hadn’t considered the fact that Jean might want nothing to do with sharing a room with him.

“There’s another bedroom,” Jeremy shifted his weight and sincerely hoped that Jean wasn’t already completely done with being here, “down the hall. My roommate from last year got an apartment, but I wanted to stay on campus, and since the whole team spends a lot of time here, no one’s made me move to a smaller room yet. I moved the bed in here because it’s a bigger space to hang out in than the living room. We can move it back, though.”

Jean had stared at the bed, looking from it to Jeremy’s as he compulsively rubbed his thumb back and forth over the strap of his bag. Waiting for an answer was more stressful than Jeremy expected it to be, but his determination to be a positive presence in Jean’s new life was enough to keep him from leaving Jean by himself to decide where he wanted to sleep.

“No,” Jean finally managed, before stepping forward towards the side of the bed and setting one of his bags down on the rumpled sheets. “I can stay in here.” 

“Okay!” Jeremy’s attempt to mask his relief with enthusiasm was definitely far too obvious, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

And now, exactly one week after the first night Jean had gone to sleep a few feet away from Jeremy, Jeremy is lying in bed staring at the ceiling, listening to choked-off whimpers coming from Jean’s bed.

It isn’t that he didn’t expect Jean to have nightmares, because Kevin’s reveal of what had really happened to him during his time with the Ravens had only proved the Trojans suspicions about them. Even worse than that, though, was the state in which Jean had arrived at USC, scars and a fierce reluctance that hinted heavily at unmatched trauma. But Jeremy also didn’t plan for the first nightmare to come so soon after Jean arrived, before he could even call the two of them acquaintances. 

From the moment Jeremy had met Jean, he’d wanted to be someone Jean could trust. He’d been up all night after the Trojans had played the Foxes, not because they had lost, but because the idea of bringing Jean to their team and giving him another chance was as exhilarating as it was terrifying. Giving Jean time to adjust was the first element of Jeremy’s plan. Time to learn a new routine and separate his old life as a Raven from his new life as a Trojan was essential, and Jeremy wasn’t planning on encouraging Jean to socialize and make friends until he seemed more comfortable with his new environment and teammates.

Lying in bed now though, listening to the nightmare play out, he really wishes he hadn’t put any of this off. 

The moonlight filtering in through the curtains lights up the room enough so that when Jeremy rolls from his back onto his side, he can just make out Jean’s shoulders trembling beneath one of the blankets the team had bought for him. He lets out another muffled cry before Jeremy can’t handle watching anymore and shifts back towards the window to study the chips in the paint beside his bed.

When Jean startles awake a few minutes later, and the combination of the sounds of the bed creaking and deep, heaving breaths seems to echo off the walls, pretending he’s asleep is the most difficult thing Jeremy has done in weeks.

 

2\. 

After six weeks, Jeremy knows that Jean’s nightmares haven’t stopped. Even if he isn’t always woken up by them, he can see it in the way Jean’s generally clear and focused eyes look so hollow some mornings, and in the way he’ll flinch through entire practices every time the ball ricochets off the court wall. It’s not every morning; some mornings he’s fully awake, and even manages to tease Jeremy about the extra spoon of sugar he puts in his tea.

But not every morning finds Jean looking well-rested and unhaunted, and Jeremy find himself on the edge of bringing it up.

He doesn’t get a chance to, though, because after a full day of drills, a team dinner, and Jeremy succeeding in convincing Jean to join them for game night, he wakes up at half past four to the sound of terrified mumbling coming from the other side of the room.

He doesn’t hesitate in sitting up this time, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and feeling around with his feet for his slippers in the darkness. Once he finds them, he makes his way across the room to Jean’s bed, settling down on the edge far enough that he’s not touching Jean but close enough that he could if he wanted to.

“I know you’re not supposed to wake someone who’s having a nightmare,” he purposely doesn’t whisper, but keeps his voice low enough that it matches the hazy hour of night. “So I’m just going to talk, okay Jean? I’ll just talk to you for a little while.”

He takes a deep breath, because sitting here next to Jean and watching his fears contort his face is a lot more difficult than just listening from the other side of the room, or seeing the aftereffects the next morning. Jean is thrashing back and forth under the sheets, his eyes squeezed unnaturally tight and his jaw clenched. Jeremy has taken to keeping the curtains open a tiny bit since Jean moved in, but the way the pale moonlight is accentuating the scars across his cheeks and the sweat plastering his hair to his forehead is making Jeremy wish he hadn’t.

“Okay,” Jeremy forces himself back to what he really, really hopes will break through Jean’s terror. “I don’t know if this is going to work, actually. But we can try.

“So, tomorrow I’m going to show you some pictures of my family’s dog. She’s back home, and I have about a million too many pictures of her on my phone. But she’s really tiny and old and she has these huge ears.” Jeremy moves the slightest bit closer to Jean, slowly placing a hand on his knee to still his legs. It works, and Jeremy continues. “She likes to sneak into my sister’s room when no one is home and make like… a nest in her bed and then she just sleeps in it all day until someone finds her.” 

He moves on to another story, about his neighbor’s cat, talking at the same volume and level until Jean’s movements grow less fitful and the air around them isn’t littered with timid groans. Jeremy doesn’t walk back to his bed until Jean’s breathing has almost completely evened out, and he hopes that the plate of pancakes and note decorated with a smiley face that he leaves on the kitchen table the next morning aren’t too much.

 

3\. 

Five months after Jean joins the Trojans, Jeremy feels like they might be getting somewhere. Jean is still quieter than most, but he’s more willing to come to team events, and he spends some mornings sitting at the kitchen table talking to Jeremy while he makes breakfast. There’s something else that’s different too, something that Jeremy has felt burning under his skin for a couple of months now. He’s really, truly tried to ignore it. For a few days, clamping it down deep where it couldn’t get out of hand or distract him from his self-assigned job of helping Jean adjust actually seemed doable. 

A combination of strategy, determination, and enthusiasm usually keeps Jeremy’s plans on track, but the morning Jean walked into the kitchen, bleary-eyed and too sleepy to realize that he had put on one of Jeremy’s t-shirts instead of one of his own, was the exact moment that Jeremy realized he was completely screwed.

Other than that glaring, specifically unnamed development in Jeremy’s blossoming friendship with Jean, things are starting to look up, but Jeremy is always prepared for a drop. And it does come, on a Tuesday night two hours after the two of them had gone to bed.

Jeremy startles awake to a hand on his shoulder, and a shaky inhale from somewhere above his bed has him grasping for his phone for light. He’s beaten to locating his phone by Jean’s voice, broken and unsteady, cutting straight through his chest and leaving him feeling as torn up as Jean sounds.

“Knox,” Jean grips Jeremy’s shoulder, and Jeremy is struck with the realization that he hasn’t actually sat up yet. He does, and meets Jean’s unsettled eyes almost immediately.

“Hey, hey,” Jeremy instinctively reaches for Jean’s hand, and Jean grabs on without hesitation. “I’m here, what’s wrong?”

“I think-” Jean struggles to get the words out, and like always, the dim light from outside illuminates the tiniest of details, like his chest heaving only inches in front of Jeremy. “I think I had a nightmare… and I don’t-” his grip on Jeremy’s hand tightens. “I don’t want to be alone right now.” 

For a fleeting second, Jeremy feels like he might actually cry.

“Okay, I’m right here,” Jeremy assures him, and he swears he would remind Jean of that a thousand times if he had to. “Thank you for waking me.” He knows that his Captain Voice isn’t as overbearing as it should be, but the calmness with which he’s speaking now is even tamer than that, the voice he reserves for his younger sister and baby cousins. He stands, and Jean leans into him as Jeremy guides them through the dark to the bathroom. 

He keeps a hand on Jean’s back as Jean leans over the sink, knuckles white as he grips the edge with both hands and stares at the drain like it holds the secret to erasing just about every element of his past. “Do you want me to count breaths for you?” Jeremy asks, and Jean manages a shaky nod. Jeremy counts to four and then seven and then eight and four and then seven and then eight again, coaching Jean through each cycle and staying close beside him as some of the tension bleeds out of his shoulders.

Jean continues to breathe through Jeremy’s instructions as Jeremy runs the water and reaches into the cabinet behind the mirror for a towel. He soaks it and then hands it to Jean, who releases his hold on the edge of the sink and presses it to his face. His cheeks and nose are red when he hands it back, and Jeremy tries to look past the fact that he can’t tell if the droplets at the corners of Jean’s eyes are water or tears.

As they walk out of the bathroom towards the kitchen, Jeremy turns on every light he can reach. He doesn’t want any part of the room to even closely resemble the Nest and the pure darkness that Jean was constantly surrounded by, and Jean seems to appreciate it, growing a little more steady with each bit of extra light. Jean ends up on the couch, picking at the fraying edge of one of the cushions but switching to wringing his hands in his lap once Jeremy sits down beside him after filling the teapot on the stove.

“Thank you.” The rawness behind Jean’s words accentuates his accent, and he sounds too tired for Jeremy to even comprehend. “I’m sorry to have woken you. All I saw was him and I needed-” he rubs a hand over his face, “someone to prove to me that it wasn’t real.”

“It’s not real,” Jeremy’s hand hovers over Jean’s shoulder, but he remembers the lack of hesitation with which Jean had latched onto him earlier, and rests it there. “You’re safe here, and he’s never going to hurt you again.”

Jean seems to suppress a shudder, but he nods, and shifts his gaze to the floor.

Jeremy doesn’t want to push, but he’s still reeling over the fact that Jean woke him up for help, and if he doesn’t just ask the question now he risks losing his nerve or never getting another chance. “Why did you wake me, though? I’m really glad you did, but I know you’ve dealt with this lots of times, so why now?”

“I heard you,” is all Jean says, still studying the fibers of the carpet.

“What?”

“A few nightmares ago, and most of them since,” Jean locks eyes with Jeremy, and Jeremy tries to ignore the fact that he can’t will his heart to stop pounding at the sincere look in Jean’s tired eyes. “I heard you talking to me.”

“You did?” 

Jean nods. “It doesn’t always end the nightmare. But I can hear you a lot of the time, and you’re there until they’re over. Thank you for that, Jeremy.”

Jeremy’s hand burns where it still rests on Jean’s shoulder, and he swallows hard as Jean leans back and settles himself on the couch. “You don’t have to thank me. You’re our teammate now, and my roommate and my friend, and we’re all here for you.”

The look on Jean’s face is complicated, and this feels like the edge of something, where one more step could shift the tide of everything he and Jean have built. In a positive way, Jeremy thinks, but right now he's too nervous to find out. So he reaches for the remote instead of saying anything else, flipping through channels until he spots a familiar orange and white fish and stops on Finding Nemo. 

“I’ve never seen this,” Jean says, and he doesn’t even fidget when Jeremy pulls his legs up against his chest and bumps his knee into Jean’s side. 

“Well then I’m about to enrich your movie education,” Jeremy makes himself comfortable beside Jean, and the content sigh and half-smile he gets in return is worth his tiredness the next morning. 

 

+1

A semester and a half, sixteen dates, two weekend trips, and countless kisses later, when Jean goes from mumbling “no” and “please stop” to bolting upright in bed with his hands fisted in the sheets, Jeremy doesn’t have to go far to reach him. 

Jean lies back down after a minute spent catching his breath, guided by Jeremy’s gentle touch over his chest, and allows himself to be wrapped tight in arms that struggle to reach all the way around him. He chokes on a breath as he buries his face in Jeremy’s chest, but Jeremy’s legs tangled with his and lips against his forehead are both a grounding weight. 

“I’m here, mon coeur,” Jeremy breathes into Jean’s hair. “You are Jean and I am Jeremy and we have a game next week against Palmetto State and you are safe here in this room and in this bed with me.”

“Even you know that French pet names are better than American ones,” Jean mumbles once his fingers stop trembling against Jeremy’s hip. “And that’s why you always steal mine.”

Jeremy scoffs. “That’s a strong accusation, Moreau.” He punctuates his sentence with a kiss to the bridge of Jean’s nose. “Maybe I just like calling you mine.”

“As do I,” Jean presses himself closer to Jeremy, focusing on feather-light touches and the feeling of Jeremy’s breath against his ear. It brings him back down, slowly but surely, and after a few minutes of careful breathing, he knows that his relaxation is palpable.

“Good?” Jeremy asks, and how could Jean be anything but good with Jeremy’s voice bringing him back from the edge and Jeremy’s fingers tracing patterns over his back?

Jean hums an affirmative. He’ll thank Jeremy in the morning, like he always does, and Jeremy will say that thanks aren’t necessary, like he always does, and they’ll have breakfast in the kitchen and listen to Jeremy’s obnoxiously upbeat music as Jeremy tries to get Jean to dance with him, like they always do.

The nightmares will come and go. That much, Jean knows. But with Jeremy here, he’ll fall back asleep once they’re over, in the safety of arms that are more gentle with him than any others ever have been. 

He’s dozing again before he even hears Jeremy say goodnight, and this time, he dreams about the two of them, and a future brighter than he ever thought he could imagine.


End file.
